


Sometimes Home Is Two Eyes And A Heartbeat

by jungle_ride



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Balinor Lives, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/pseuds/jungle_ride
Summary: AU Season 2. !Balinor  lives.It’s sunrise when Balinor finally arrives at the small, seemingly insignificant, village of Ealdor. The budding light, so full of promise, blooms along the horizon, colouring the world in pastel tones of dusty pinks, oranges, yellows and a bright blue that grows in pigment with each passing moment. There is almost a poetic feeling as Balinor retraces his footsteps back through the years. A circle completing itself.





	Sometimes Home Is Two Eyes And A Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enviropony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/gifts).



> I will forever love this ship and the character of Balinor as an individual. I was so disappointed and upset when he died in cannon so this AU was a real pleasure to write. I really hope you enjoy this and like what I came up with. =)

The hall is silent though it is filled to the brim. Although not all present fully understand the turbulent history between the two parties, they are not unaware of the gravity of the moment. This is the first time, a known magic wielded has been welcome in realm of Camelot in just over two decades. Ladies, lords, maids and servants are all gathered, their eyes flicking between the face of their king, and that of the dragon lord who saved them from destruction. Weary knights tired from the onslaught they have suffered over the last few days stand tall, held up by nothing more than their sheer will.

Sitting on his throne, Uther’s back is straight, his head high as if guiltless of the crimes that have led to this moment. The now fading fires of Kilgharrah have left a trail of lingering smoke in the air, which only serves to remind Balinor of the deceitful promises the king before him can spin.

Balinor has been here before. He was younger then, naïve to the grief stricken insanity and hatred that festered beneath. Years ago Balinor had been too ready to believe the best of his once allied friend, too eager to trust. He will not make the same mistake again.

“You have slayed the beast Balinor and for that we must offer our thanks.” Uther says, his words spoken with apparent sincerity, though Balinor can hear the underlying venom beneath.

His own snide reply lies on the edge of his tongue, eager to be released. Before he can utter a syllable however, Merlin’s expression catches his eye. He is standing next to Arthur and yet seems to fade into the background, like a good servant should. His face is set into a neutral expression, a well train mask he is so obviously used to wearing. It’s his eyes that give him away, they are ablaze, staring at Balinor hard and pleading.

Taking a deep breath Balinor swallows the contemptuous words back down; biting his tongue with the promise he had made his son. He will play his part. He will get out of this alive. He will become free. So instead he bows his head as if humbled by Uthers words, letting his gaze pass directly over Uther and find their way towards the golden haired young man on his right.

“Your son is worthy of his reputation.” Balinor declares, meaning every word. Arthur had proven himself honourable, albeit still young and a little arrogant at times, but true of heart none the less. Arthur smiles, standing a few inches taller at the compliment and the memories of the journey that lead them here stir in Balinor’s mind.

~~~

Balinor had informed Arthur of his terms, when they had been on the edge of Camelot’s kingdom. Despite his request he would not kill Killgarah but instead would use his gift to send the dragon away.

_“He is my kin and the last of his kind. I will not be responsible for the death of his noble bread.”_

Arthur had not been trusting in the power of the Dragon Lord and perhaps more accurately had not understood it. But then how could he when he’d been taught from birth that such things were evil. An augment had ensued.

 _“My will over Kilgharrah_ _is absolute. He will not be able to return to Camelot unless I will it.”_

_“And what’s to stop you?”_

_“I’ve seen enough of war boy. I’m looking for peace.”_

_“And I’m supposed to trust you? Just like that? You said yourself you have no love for my father. You’d want nothing more than to see him fall.”_

_“Your father has robbed me of my life and the lives of so many innocents. Their blood is on his hands; do not forget that your kingdom is built on the graves of my people. Yes I would see him fall, but I am not naive boy. Your father is a murderous fool because he allowed his rage to consume him. Instead of facing his sins, he blamed others. He lost sight of the truth; I will not make the same mistake. There has been enough bloodshed.”_

Balinor still isn’t sure what he said in that moment to change Arthur’s mind, but something must have struck a chord, for Arthur had relented. Agreeing with the plan on one condition, he would accompany the dragon lord and witness the exchange, first hand. He would make his own mind up about dragons and the lords that called them kin.

Balinor could never have planned what would happen when he finally stood before Kilgharrah once more. Though he never expected what occurred. Kilgharrah had answered his call immediately, welcoming him like a brother. He had held no resentment for the part Balinor had played in his capture, though Balinor himself felt the guilt weigh heavy inside him. Kilgharrah had for one brief moment tried to persuade him to join his pillage, until Balinor had invoked their kinship, connecting his mind to his and flooding it with the ancient teachings. Kilgharrah had fought back bombarding Balinor’s own mind with the horrors of the Great Purge, the injustice they had suffered. It wasn’t until Blainor had searched into Kilgharrah’s own mind and pulled from it the prophecy of the Once and Future king of Albion, that he yielded.

The atmosphere had changed imminently charged with an ancient power that flowed from the centre of the earth into Balinor making his blood sing. His heart had filled with a new sense of faith as he saw the man Arthur could become, the kingdom he could create, one where magic ran free, and his son, tall and proud standing beside him, helping to shape it all.

~~

“Arthur will make a great king.” Balinor says, pulling himself out of the memories and back into the present. This is the last thing he will ever say to Uther, he will not speak directly to him again.

“Indeed.” Uther agrees looking towards his son, a hint of a smile on his lips. Perhaps he has understood the unspoken finality in Balinor’s words, or maybe he knows he is incapable of containing the ruthless of his nature towards those with magic, for he gestures to Arthur to take the lead.

Arthur hesitates a moment, looking more boy than man. Merlin nudges him a little, discreetly enough that no one would notice. It’s only because Balinor is now so in tune to his son’s every moment that he sees it. A warmth seeps into his chest, a half smile tugging at the corners of his lips, which he fights to conceal.

“Because of you, are people are safe.” Arthur says stepping forward and coming to stand in front of Balinor. “We owe you a great debt of gratitude, one for which you shall be rewarded.”

“My freedom is all that I ask. Let me live the rest of my days in peace, un-hunted. That will be reward enough.”

“I,” Arthur starts pausing a moment, as he searchers the older man’s face. What he finds there, Balinor does not know. Perhaps he finally sees the years of persecution, the life that was stolen yet still lies unlived in his bones. Arthur frowns, eyebrows knitted together.

Although after Kilgharrah’s departure, it had been Arthur who’d insisted they all return to Camelot, to spin the tale of the Dragon Lord who killed the dragon in order to grant Balinor safe passage from Uther’s hand, it seems now he is genuinely hurt that he does not feel safe here.

“It is yours as it shall always be, I give you my word” Arthur reaches an arm up and clasps the older man on the shoulder. “But you must know you are always welcome here.” he finishes forcefully, his voice sounding wounded, as if he is hurting from past sins he never committed.

“Na eisai kalyteros anthropos apo ton patera soy.” Balinor says; clasping Arthurs arm in return, a gesture of solidarity.

“What does that mean?” Arthur leans forward so that only Balinor can hear. Balinor does smile then, soft and gentle. Pulling the younger man closer into an embrace he whispers the answer into his ear.

“May you be a better man than your father.”

\---

“I wish you let me come.” Merlin says, with the youthful undertones he had often spoken in, when he’d still been a small child, hanging off his mother’s skirt. Although Balinor has no memories of that boy, he can imagine it in such heart aching detail, that it leaves him with a yearning so raw he almost losses his breath.

“This is a journey I must make on my own.” Balinor offers as an explanation, saddling up the white and grey speckled horse Arthur had gifted him. Balinor feels Merlin’s eyes on him, studying his every movement as though he were trying to memorise him by heart.

“You said that already.” Merlin grumbles, throwing the piece of straw he'd been playing with at him. It falls to the floor long before it can meet its target.

Rolling his eyes at the juvenile display Balinor can’t help but chuckle. The sound of it echoes in his ears like the ghost of a distant memory. A women lying with her head in his lap twiddling a forget me not in her finger; her innocent eyes looking up at him with love before her lips turn upwards in childlike playfulness as she bops him on the nose with the flower in her hand.

“There is so much of Hunith in you.” Balinor smiles, the curve of his mouth soft and wistful.

“There’s a lot of you too.” It’s said so quietly that it takes a moment for Balinor to really register it. At first he thinks he’s misheard and it’s only when looks over to see Merlin’s head ducked, cheeks tinted pink with uncertainty and embarrassment, that it sinks in.

“You do have your father’s talents.” Blainor nods, eyes crinkling at the edges when Merlin sits up taller, chest proud. He’s not sure he’ll ever be worthy of the admiration that Merlin offers him so freely, but he wants to be. Perhaps that is parenthood.

“I’ve still got a lot to learn.” Merlin adds a moment later. The comment itself is nonchalant, but there is tentativeness in the lines of his face that suggest a deeper meaning to his words.

“So have I.” Balinor offers in return. He still doesn’t really know what it is to be a father, but he’s willing to let Merlin teach him. He is more than willing.  

Beaming, Merlin gives a swift nod. No words needed to convey their understanding. They stay like that for a while, in comfortable silence. It’s only when the last supply is safely secured that Merlin speaks again.

“You know life really is amazing, a few days ago we were broken and now, now we’re going to be together again. A real family.” Merlin grins, all teeth and joy. The peaceful contentment Balinor had felt earlier begins to fade, giving way to nausea.

“Maybe you shouldn’t pin all your hopes on this Merlin.” He cautions. Maybe what was broken couldn’t be fixed.

“Huh?” Merlin frowns.

“There are things I did that Hunith may not be willing to forgive.” The fear of that had almost made Balinor run. As much as he’s endured he’s not sure he would able to withstand such a rejection. It had taken every shred of bruised and battered courage left inside him to even think about making this journey. But he had broken a promise to Hunith once before, a fact he has never been able to forgive himself for, to not return now when he when he was finally free to do so, would only be breaking another.

“But she loves you.” Merlin says, heartfelt and honest, gesturing widely with his hands as if trying to grasp what Balinor was trying to stay out of the air, as he clearly hadn’t understood with words alone.

“And you love her.” He pauses, concern suddenly etching its way onto his face. “You still do, don’t you?” Merlin asks, drawing his lips between his nervously, almost flinching when Blainor takes a breath before answering.

“My heart has always been a fixed point. It’s always been with your mother, even when I wasn’t. ”

“Well then.” Merlin says, as if that put an end to it. Balinor runs a hand over his forehead, debating with himself internally. He could leave it at that, but somehow he still feels an obligation to at least try and prepare Merlin for a less favourable outcome. False hope could be the worst of evils.

Hunith had begged to come with him, had held his face in her hands, clasping it tight between them and kissed his lips over and over whispering please, like a prayer against them. And in that moment he’d agreed, selfishly. He’d taken her to bed, wrapping her in around him, pressing her so tight against his flesh as if to fuse her imprint eternally to him. He traced the lines and curves of her body, kissed every inch as if this would be the last time he ever could. And it had been.

He hadn’t meant to lie, but she deserved a life and not the half one he’d been condemned to. He may have been drowning, but he didn’t have to take her down with him. So instead he’d snuck out in the middle of the night; when there was still enough shadow to conceal his betrayal. He had thought he was leaving her to live a better life, but instead had unknowingly left her with a child to bear alone.

“Whatever happens will happen.” Balinor sighs, he’s resided himself to the worse possible fate, anything less will be a miracle. “All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t set your heart on happily ever after.” Merlin studies him thoughtfully for a second.

“She never really talked about you. Whenever I asked she would change the subject or distracted me with something else. So at first I thought maybe it was because you weren’t a kind man. You hear stories about how some women out of wedlock conceive their children. It wasn’t until I was a bit older that I realised it wasn’t that at all, but because it was too painful for her. That she was still grieving you; that she would always be longing for you. That’s why she never married. It wasn’t like she didn’t have offers you know, she did but…” Merlin trails off, standing upright before his father. “Her hearts always belonged to you.” He ends, soft in voice but fierce in tone.

There’s a long moment of stillness, where Merlin’s words linger in the air between them. Balinor takes several deep breathes, inhaling their meaning, the bitter and sweet combining in his lungs. They say time heals all wounds and in Bainlor’s experience that’s been a lie, but maybe it’s only true if you’re surrounded by the company of those you love.

“You know I never thanked you.” He says. Merlin frowns as if he can’t think of a single thing Balinor would ever need to thank him for.

“You saved me.” Balinor lays a warm hand on his sons shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it’s all he can think to do in the moment to convey his appreciation.

“You’re welcome.” The younger man’s eyes shimmer, the emotion clear.

“You’re still not coming though.” Balinor adds pushing at his shoulder playfully, lightening the moment. Merlin’s laugh is bright, tumbling out of him like an erupting spring. It’s the most glorious sound that Balinor’s heard in a long time.

\---

It’s sunrise when Balinor finally arrives at the small, seemingly insignificant, village of Ealdor. The budding light, so full of promise, blooms along the horizon, colouring the world in pastel tones of dusty pinks, oranges, yellows and a bright blue that grows in pigment with each passing moment. There is almost a poetic feeling as Balinor retraces his footsteps back through the years. A circle completing itself.

The village is exactly as he remembers; it could have been a few hours since his last visit instead of almost two decades. The only people that greet him on his journey are livestock, their clucks and grunts a strange welcome call. The human inhabitants are still tucked up warmly in their beds, Balinor finds himself thankful for that. This would be much harder to do with an audience; it’s one of the reasons why Balinor hadn’t wanted Merlin to join him. His footsteps echo all around, sounding overly loud in his own ears, matching his booming heartbeat. He’s nerves begin to tighten and tremble as his muscle memory takes over leading him ever closer to ….a sharp slap in the face? A homecoming embrace?

Balinor still has no idea what to expect, but a tentative hope had started to root itself inside him after he had begun his journey in earnest. Merlin’s faith had sparked a transformation within him, turning the bitter pessimist he’d become, back into a man that resembled more of the person he’d been in his youth. Knowledge he had buried deep within the reclusive recesses of his mind, coming out of its shadowy prison and back into the light.

Despite his newly formed optimism, his mind can be a dangerous place and so he walks swiftly, feet pounding on the roughly made path, as to not give his mind time to wonder into darker paths. Therefore it doesn’t take him long to reach his destination, his body working faster than his mind has time to compete with.

The house, a simple structure of stone and straw is still standing strong, as the woman who inhabits it. Balinor pauses a moment, his heart slamming in his chest, like a caught bird in a cage. A prickle begins at the base of his spin, as his hand hovers, inches from the wooden door. The fear is almost overwhelming; it tightens his throat, restricting his breathing and causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably. This is the point of no return.

A thought occurs to him suddenly. He has no clue what he’s going to say. Despite the journey it took to get here, Balinor had not planned this far ahead. Perhaps he should wait until later; she was probably still sleeping anyway. He goes as far as taking two steps back before he realises what’s he’s doing, balling his hands into tight fists, nails digging into skin he internally berates himself for his cowardliness and then he knocks on the door.

“Oh Marie, I’m almost ready, just fixing my hair. Come on in, doors open.” Hunith’s warm dulcet tones, float over him. The invitation was not meant for him, but Balinor takes it anyway pushing the door open with shaking fingertips.

Hunith is sitting with one hand clasping her hair to her head while the other picks up a pin from the table. Balinor feels his heart stutter as he takes in her image. Her face is a picture of everlasting kindness, her pale blue eyes the focal point, leading to soft curves of her cheekbones and apple cheeks tinted with natural a pink tone. She has aged better than him. The added lines around the corners of her eyes are a sign of smiling; his were etched deep into his forehead from years spent frowning. The smooth canvas of his youth has grown rough and rugged from weariness; hers has only flourished.

Overcome with emotion, he watches the morning sunlight, bathe her in a golden hue. He hadn’t realised until this very moment, when she was once flesh and blood, how much he’d miss her. The hole that had been left in his world, without her presence, had been deep and dark, one he had fallen into, drowning with no hope of salvation…until now.  

Hunith hasn’t noticed him yet, still focusing on the polished glass of a small handcrafted mirror. Balinor recognises it immediately. He recalls the hours he spent, carving the forget me not design.

Taking a step closer, he wets his lips as he prepares himself to speak. Hunith turns when she hears the footsteps, freezing into position when her gaze falls on him. Her mouth, which had been curving into a welcoming smile, now falls open, as a hitched breathe convulses her chest. The pin she had been holding drops to the floor, hitting the wooden floor boards with an audible ping. The words Balinor had been preparing himself for fly from him, lost to the wind. A silence blankets over them, the world outside of the four walls fading to nothing.

“Am I dreaming again?” Her words are spoken on a whispered exhale. His heart stutters at them, overwhelmed with the idea that she, like him, has been haunted each night with their absent love. Balinor swallows the sound audible in the hushed quietness and shakes his head.

The hand that had been holding her hair into place lowers, causing her hair to fall back down, cascading down and over her shoulders. Slowly, Hunith rises from her seat, moving towards him gradually, each step carefully thought out and analysed before it is made, as if she is expecting him to evaporate into thin air.

Huniths gaze never leaves his, she doesn’t’ even blink as Balinor stands rotted to the stop, unable to move, the prey to her huntress. His thoughts are running wild now, considering her every movement as a clue to her emotions, which he cannot read in her face. The not knowing is killing him.

Hunith eyes narrow a little at him, still unsure of his authenticity, as she comes to stand directly in front of him, only a hand’s width away now. Balinor thinks he should say something, take the lead, but in some corner of his mind, he decides it is better that what happens now occurs on her terms and hers alone. So they stand there, eyes locked together, lost in their own world. A stampede of wild horses could have passed through the village and neither of them would have noticed.

“Say something, please.” She finally requests, in what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute. Her voice is almost trembling and Balinor wonders if this is a test, if maybe he never spoke to her in her dreams and that’s why she’s asking now.

Balinor searches for an eloquent speech, one that is capable of fully conveying every twisting emotion he has been bound in, every haunting regret and mistake, he wishes he could retract; wants to explain to her in such vivid detail the truth of his feelings, so that she is left with no doubt of them.

“I love you.” Is all that comes out.

Hunith’s lips turn upwards slightly, in an almost smile, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes a breath. Balinor can see her eyes shift under the delicate skin of her eyelids, he wonders what she’s looking for in the dark, afraid that his simple and somewhat juvenile declaration has caused an unwelcome shift. When they open again, Balinor watches as her pupils, having becoming slightly dilated, once more shrink down as they adjust to the light. He had been so focused on their change; on the array of blues that he hadn’t seen Hunith lifting her right hand, reaching it towards his face uncertainly, as if she still half expected it to go right through him. He doesn’t notice until he feels her palm cupping his cheek, her fingers brushing against the hair of his beard. Hunith inhales sharply, her eyes so clear a moment ago blurring, as a layer of water beings to flood them.

“You’re real. You’re really here.” She says, lifting her left hand to cup his other cheek. Instinctively he leans into the touch, revealing in the connection. She’s smiling through watery eyes, astonishment and delight shaping her features.

“How?” Hunith asks, conveying a thousand questions within the one syllable. Balinor who under her loving caresses has once more found his voice, smiles a secret smile.

“Our son.” He answers truthfully. Hunith’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her mouth forming a silent oh. It takes her a moment to recompose herself enough to form words.

“How?” she asks again, but just when Balinor is about to begin the tale, to start the speech he has slowly begun to from during this interaction, Hunith holds a hand up and shakes her head, silencing him. His own eyes narrow at her questioningly.

“Tell me later.” She explains, hands roaming over his face, fingers stroking at the skin, tracing the curves and edges. There’s a hint of a question to the words. Balinor understands immediately. She’s worried this is a fleeting visit. That he’s going to disappear again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He reassures stroking her cheek with the back of his fingertips. “That is if you’ll have me?”

Hunith laughs, a breathy exhale of air. Droplets of water that had been threating to fall finally slip from her over brimming eyes, sliding down her cheeks.

“Have you?” she echoes, her index finger tracing lightly over his lips, mapping the outline of them. “Balinor I love you. Of course I have you.” Her voice wobbles, shaky with the emotion charging through her. Balinor is finally overcome. Lips and bodies press firmly together, not an inch of space between them. Balinor is finally home.

 


End file.
